


it's better with a man

by LydiaOfNarnia



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M, aggressive flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaOfNarnia/pseuds/LydiaOfNarnia
Summary: George Luz is determined to seduce Buck Compton if it's the last thing he does.(written for the Tumblr prompt"Are - are you flirting with me?")





	it's better with a man

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, the characters in this fic are based off of their fictional portrayals from the miniseries Band of Brothers, and I mean no disrespect to the real-life veterans!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [renelemaires](http://renelemaires.tumblr.com/)!

At this point, George isn’t sure if Buck is oblivious, or just so Passionately Heterosexual that he wouldn’t pick up on a guy trying to hit on him if he got down on one knee and proposed.

George has tried everything he can think of. He’s done everything that he can within the bounds of discretion, save from actually proposing to him. He’s bought Buck drinks; he’s sat in his lap; he’s convinced him to dance; he’s _slept_ with the guy, for chrissakes. (In the same bed, when their accommodations in England weren’t expansive enough to provide every man his own bed. George enthusiastically offered to share with Buck; Buck enthusiastically agreed. That night, George learned that Buck snores like a freight train and likes to cuddle, but that’s about it.)

George has nothing but respect for Buck’s capability as a soldier, but if Buck’s this ignorant to such obvious overtures he half-wonders if the man would notice a German rifle pointed at his head. Hell, maybe that’s all Buck would notice. Maybe George should find himself one of those toy guns, put a flag in it that reads _“I REALLY LIKE YOU”_ and fire it at Buck. It’s no less subtle than anything else he’s attempted.

And still, he keeps trying.

By now, he’s wondering if he should start losing hope. Maybe he’s the one who can’t take a hint. If Buck doesn’t like him like that, why should George keep trying?

No, Buck Compton is anything but a cruel man. He wouldn’t let George go on suffering like this; he’d at least have the mercy to let him down easy. It’s not that Buck isn’t interested.

He’s just really, _really_ oblivious.

It’s killing George. He’s amazed by it, but it’s its own form of torture. He doesn’t know how long he can hold out until he breaks down entirely and flings himself at Buck’s feet with a shout of _“Please let me put my hands on your body!”_

That wouldn’t go over well. It’s a new level of desperate for George, who prides himself on his charm most days. Sure, maybe he can’t physically convince Buck that he’s hitting on him, but there’s more than one way to play the game.

It takes George all of half an hour to come up with a plan of attack. He mulls over his approach, considers the risk of things going wrong, and deliberates his course towards victory with a precision that would make Captain Winters proud. Then he goes to hunt down his prey.

He finds Buck in the room he’s being quartered in, along with another officer. It is, mercifully, empty, save for Buck lying flat on his stomach. His legs are in the air, swinging casually. A book open in front of him is going ignored, with all of Buck’s attention focused on the small photograph he holds in front of his face.

“Evenin’, Lieutenant,” George chirps, causing Buck to start. His head swivels towards the door; as soon as he spots George, a blinding grin spreads across his face.

“George Luz!” he exclaims as he pushes himself upright. “I woulda thought you’d be out sweeping the pubs with the rest of the boys. Just felt like staying in tonight?”

George crosses the room at Buck’s beckon, planting himself next to him on the bed. “Something like that.” He peers over at the picture still clutched in Buck’s hands; in it, the man is beaming, pressed cheek to cheek with an attractive woman.

“That your girlfriend?”

“Yeah. Jerry.” Buck hands the picture to George to inspect, still grinning. “She’s a real doll, isn’t she? Used to cheer at all our games. That girl can do splits like…” He lets out a low whistle, then gives a chuckle that rumbles deep inside his chest. George feels his stomach flip, and isn’t sure if it’s from hearing Buck talk about his girlfriend or sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

“That’s… yeah, that’s real great, Buck.” _I can do splits too,_ he thinks, but wisely refrains from letting his mouth get away from him. If this is to be accomplished, it has to be done with precision. Delicacy. He can run for home plate only when he knows he’s hit it out of the park.

He hands the picture back; Buck tucks it into his pocket with care. “So, what brings you here, George?”

“Believe it or not, I was looking for you.”

Buck’s eyebrows creep up. “Yeah?”

“Nothing serious, I just wanted to chat. Catch up, you know? All these replacements are pouring in like a plague. It’s nice to talk to a guy you know. A real man, not like all these kids.” He squeezes Buck’s bicep. The other man gives a hearty laugh.

“I know what you mean. Sometimes it’s better to have a real guy to talk to.” He nods along to his own words, paying no attention to George’s hand on his back. “Not that the replacement fellas aren’t great,” he hastens to add. “They’re all swell guys.”

“No, yeah, I love the new fellas.”

“They’re just green, you know? They didn’t go through what we did in Normandy.”

“Yeah.” George’s hand is creeping steadily lower. He is so close to touching Buck’s ass that it _hurts,_ and Buck is still doing nothing.

“It’s better to be with another man, who knows what you’ve been through,”

“Yeah,” George agrees, fixated on the firmness of Buck’s butt. “Way better.”

“It’s a sense of… camaraderie, I guess. We’ve all got it. You and I, we have it.”

“I hope so, Buck.”

“You’re sitting there in a foxhole and you’ve got a buddy by your side, real close… there’s nothing like it. Nothing at all. You get to know a guy that way. You might think you know someone really well, but until you’re alone with them and your life is on the line –”

“I get ya, Buck.” He’s touching the ass. He is touching the ass and it is _glorious._ It is firm under George’s palm, round and muscled in all the right places. George feels like he’s having a religious experience.

“You know, George –” Buck reaches over, brushing a stray strand of hair from George’s eyes, but he’s still too preoccupied with Buck’s ass. “If you ever wanted to share a foxhole, I’d be glad to.”

“That's… a fantastic idea.” George has died and gone to heaven. “I’ll just… yeah…”

“You wanna take it with you?”

Buck’s finger urges George’s chin up, breaking his laser focus. Suddenly George is back in the real world, and realizes that Buck is staring at him. He looks serious – intent in a way that makes George swallow hard. Maybe he was _too_ forward.

“S-sorry?” He stammers, and Buck gives a shallow chuckle.

“You’ve gotta move your hand at some point. If you’re not going to take off my pants, you could at least try not to leave a handprint on my ass.”

“Take – take off your –” George’s head is spinning. His hearing must be going. He must have caught a piece of shrapnel right between the ears, because there’s _no way_ Buck just said what he thinks he said. “Are you telling me –”

Buck grins at him. George’s heart jumps into his throat.

“Are – are you flirting with _me?”_

Buck's smile widens into a blinding beam, which leaves George breathless. “I have been for a while now. Nice of you to notice, Georgie.”

Unbidden, George’s mind flashes back: curled up in bed with Buck’s arms wrapped tightly around him, the other man ruffling his hair, clapping him on the back, _picking him up –_

 _Oh my god,_ thinks George. “Oh my god.” _Oh my **god.**_ “You’re kidding me.”

After all this time flirting aggressively with Buck… _he’s_ been the oblivious one all along?

“I… think I need to lay down,” murmurs George, slumping into Buck’s side. The other man wraps a strong arm around George’s shoulders and pulls him close, resting his chin on George’s head.

“Take your time,” he urges. Then, after a pause… “Are you sure you don’t want to take my pants off first?”

George bolts up, miraculously revitalized. “Buck, you _know_ I do.”


End file.
